Sugar Water
by flotternz
Summary: In his mind it had never played out like this. My take on Xander's thoughts during the Bronze scene in When She Was Bad.


DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never was, never will be.  
RATING: PG13  
SPOILERS: BtVS, Season 2 "When She Was Bad"  
SUMMARY: In his mind it had never played out like this. My take on Xander's thoughts during the Bronze scene in When She Was Bad  
FEEDBACK: Yes, please

* * *

In his mind it had never played out like this.  
  
Sure, a lot of things were similar, but most of it was different. Wrong.  
  
In his dreams she'd ask him to dance, her voice a sultry, sexy purr. Her hands would slide up his arms, lightly grip his biceps as she began to pull him towards the dance floor before he had a chance to reply. His reply would always be yes anyway. The music would always be soft, floaty, with enough of a beat to be danceable, but slow enough to elicit closeness.  
  
They would move together like it was the most natural thing in the world, bodies bumping, moving in time with the music and each other in a sinuous blend of grace and raw sex appeal. Everyone else would stop to watch them, stand in awe of the couple that moved so effortlessly; so in synch with each other without it looking like one was leading.  
  
This wasn't the same. This wasn't the three of them dancing together in their clumsy two-step pattern, laughing at how ridiculous and uncoordinated they all must look. This was just the two of them, just like in his dream ... only not.  
  
Oh, her voice is a sultry purr, lilting and luscious. Her hands do trail up his arms to lightly grip his biceps. She does all but drag him on to the floor without waiting for his stuttered, awkward affirmation. He was never completely smooth around her in person like he was in his dreams.  
  
In his dreams he's as sharp and debonair as James Bond.  
  
In reality, he's sarcastic, awkward, geeky Xander Harris. In reality she's so far out of his league that he wonders how they ever managed to become friends.  
  
Her body moves against his, teasingly, tantalising as she takes the lead, glides close, slides up and down his body. His eyes close involuntarily as she presses herself against him. Electricity soars through his body as he feels her breasts press against his chest. Her pelvis brushes the erection that's burgeoning and he knows he can't control it.  
  
She turns, pulling his arms around her, pressing them against the flat of her belly. Her hips move, grinding her backside against him. He forces down the threatening groan, goes with the flow, moves with her as his arms tighten slightly about her body.  
  
He's certain he'll walk around with it for the next month.  
  
Until he meets her eyes, Finds them blank, emotionless. Concentrating though she is on the motions, deliberately trying to stir that reaction from his body, she feels nothing herself. She's doing it on purpose, using his attraction against him. It's all there in her eyes.  
  
It stops him dead; freezing his feet to the floor as she carries on, seemingly oblivious to him. Her eyes are far away, dreamy, dashing any hope that what he had seen in that brief moment had been nothing but his imagination. She continues dancing, swaying to the music, sliding around his body although he's no longer moving.  
  
In his dreams this moment had been perfect. Flawless. A true expression of how they both felt, only she'd never felt the same way about him. He was just geeky, funny, Xander, best friend and nothing more. How could he be more when she had handsome dead guy mooning after her?  
  
"Xander?" she whispers tilting her head up towards him, pulling him closer, so close that her lips barely brush his. Her voice mirrors that sensuous purr he'd imagined so often. "Did I ever thank you for saving my life?"  
  
The question comes out of the blue, startlingly. He blinks for a moment, his brain rushing to comprehend what she'd just said, to overcome her closeness to him, the stirring of emotions her proximity is causing in him. He manages a hoarse, pathetic whisper, "No."  
  
She's behind him now, her body pressing firmly against his back. He'd wanted anything but this, anything but the way she was using him right now, trying to prove some point that was beyond his grasp. It'd been beyond his grasp the moment she'd ground her body against his.  
  
He can feel her pelvis and breasts pressing deliberately into his back, the soft sway of her body as she moves to the music. Her voice, sultry but with a bitter edge, filters through the music to his ears. "Don't you wish I would?"  
  
It's gone then, the soft pressure, the feel of her body against his. There's nothing now but cold, emptiness, pain. Confusion. A feeling of desolation fills him like nothing he's ever felt before. He can feel eyes on him, watching him, mocking him; he can hear the laughs, feel the mirth of the people surrounding him, the pity.  
  
This moment, right here and now, is the loneliest he has ever felt, despite standing in a room full of people. Rejected by the one person he loved, and not for the first time, her words full of scorn for an act made out of pure desperation. An act that had saved her life.  
  
Biting back the threatening tears he begins walking. Refusing to meet anyone's eyes, he keeps his eyes lowered as he stalks out of the Bronze.  
  
This was definitely not like his dreams.  
  
Fin 


End file.
